


Nightmares

by TooManyTeeth



Series: Yordles [3]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7323676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyTeeth/pseuds/TooManyTeeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody has bad dreams from time to time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Placid

Teemo was a light sleeper, always had been, so it didn't take more than the sound of Veigar's quiet whine to wake him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes before turning to look at his mate. He couldn't see Veigar well enough in the dark to discern anything other than that he was curled into a ball, but he could certainly hear well enough. The warlock was in pain. He wasn't screaming; wasn't crying, but Teemo had caused enough pain and had felt enough of his own to know what it sounded like without such overt signs. He yawned, got out of bed and went to turn the light on. It seemed that that was enough. Veigar jerked upright and looked around blearily. His expression was drawn and fearful and harsh flickers of dark magic fluttered about his scarred form. He was panting slightly, either from stress, pain, or both.

The scout silently walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on. While he personally wasn't a fan of tea, preferring coffee, Veigar was fond of it. Next he dug through the cupboards until he found a bar of chocolate -both of the yordles had quite the sweet tooth so it wasn't difficult - and returned to the bedroom so that he could plop back down on the bed beside his mate. Teemo rested his head on the warlock's shoulder and waved the chocolate to draw his attention to it. Veigar hesitated for a moment, but the scout was nothing if not patient and eventually he did take the offering and started to nibble on it bit by bit. 

For a long time the pair sat in familiar silence; Teemo resting with his eyes closed, but not actually asleep, and Veigar slowly making his way through the chocolate and letting the scout's steadfast calm sooth his nerves. Eventually the kettle whistled and Teemo went to tend to it for a moment, before returning with a mug full of tea for his mate and sitting back down. 

Eventually he broke the silence; his voice quiet and sedate. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Perhaps later." croaked Veigar in response. Teemo simply nodded and laid back down. He knew Veigar always craved physical contact so he curled up a little and rested on his side with his back pressed lightly against the warlock's hip. After a while he dozed off again. Veigar listened to the steady sound of Teemo breathing and allowed himself to relax a little. He wasn't alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is Teemo's turn~


	2. Volatile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait

Veigar knew that Teemo was an uneasy sleeper to begin with and he also knew that the scout had occasional nightmares, but it was generally only after the fact that the warlock found out one had occurred. Teemo was hard to read even in sleep it seemed. The fact that they obviously drained what little energy the naturally apathetic scout had only disturbed Veigar all the more. That and how it seemed as if there was little to nothing he could do to prevent it. It was this combination of reasons that led to a rather dangerous error in Veigar's relationship with his former foe.

Teemo had come back tired, which was no surprise considering he'd had three consecutive matches that day, so he collapsed unceremoniously on their bed the instant he was through the door. "Your boots, Teemo," hummed Veigar from his desk, where he was working on a new book - old in general, but new to him - that needed to be translated to be readable.

"Mnmghnnfl," was the only reply he got and while Veigar _did_ give a massive roll of his eyes as he got up, he still found himself slightly amused. Pretty much any break in Teemo's composure amused him, even if it was only to express utter exhaustion, so with a little chuckle Veigar started the process of poking and prodding the scout until he surrendered and actually got ready for bed instead of just passing out on top of it like he seemed so fond of doing. It took a tedious fifteen minutes to get his mate actually into nightclothes and properly in bed, but Veigar was a big lover of victories, even small ones. 

It was a minute shudder paired with a nearly inaudible gasp that tipped him off a few hours later that something was amiss. Veigar had moved his work to the bed by that time since he wanted to enjoy the warmth and comfort of his mate at every possible opportunity, so for once he actually was close enough and awake enough to notice the minor disturbance. With a confusing mixture of concern for Teemo and delight at the possibility of returning the favor for all the times he had be soothed after his own nightmares running through him, Veigar leaned over to murmur, "Teemo?" and tapped the scout's little pink nose in the hopes of waking him gently.

No such luck.

Oh Teemo woke up alright, but _gentle_ wasn't the right adverb for it at all. Nope. The very instant Veigar touched him he found himself slammed face first onto the floor _hard_ with Teemo on his back, a suddenly broken nose sending waves of agony cascading through his brain, and a knife in his face.

Where the _hell_ did he even get a knife from so fast?! It certainly hadn't been on his person a moment ago!

Pinned down, Veigar used his vast experience and judged this situation to be dangerous as Teemo was both armed and obviously not 100% awake. Bad combo. It would probably be the best thing for his health if he stayed very still and didn't give his lover any reason to slice him to ribbons until he woke up the rest of the way, so that's what Veigar did. Sure there was the taste of copper in his mouth; his face hurt; it was damn near impossible to breathe through the blood in his mouth and nose; and after several seconds of this Veigar was starting to think maybe he'd need to find a new plan; but then the weight disappeared from his back and Teemo hoisted him up onto the bed like the mage weighed nothing at all. If his face wasn't quite so broken Veigar would have been more than a little turned on by that, but alas broken bones really were a major mood killer.

"Sorry," Teemo sighed, drawing Veigar's attention back to him and out of his own mind. He looked even more tired than when he'd gone to sleep; more proof that Veigar must've been right about the nightmare. _Hehe, Veigar is always right. _Teemo was already straightening up to go fetch the first aid kit by the time the mage decided what he wanted. He caught the scout's hand as he began to turn away, first making Teemo flinch and then Veigar himself flinch in response. Teemo gave him an exasperated look, as if he was somehow instigating something. "What? You want me to let you choke on blood or something?" he grumbled.__

____

Veigar gave a wet scoff and rolled his eyes. " _No_ , I want to make sure you're alright, you lummox." Oh boy did talking hurt.

____

"I just broke your face and almost cut your throat because you startled me and you're worried if _I'm_ ok? You've got to be concussed. That's idiotic. Only a concussed person would say something that idiotic."

____

If anybody ever asked him later on Veigar would never admit to the little shiver Teemo's monotone admission of nearly murdering him sent down his spine, but at the moment he just made an annoyed face and snapped at him. " _I'm **not** a toddler!_  I can do a little first aid on my own! _You_ on the other hand look like you had an extended tea party with Karthus - decidedly undead in other words - so sit your fuzzy rear down before I have to abuse my unfathomably vast arcane power and _**MAKE**_ you sit!" Teemo sat, (Another victory!) but not without giving him a venomous look first.

____

Regardless -ever one to work his way around the rules- Teemo ended up patching his mate up anyway by simply dragging Veigar onto the bed once he came within grabbing range after the warlock had returned with the first aid kit. Veigar gave up almost immediately anyway and let him, hoping silently that it was out of guilt rather than habit that Teemo insisted. He wasn't exactly the pinnacle of empathy himself, but not feeling guilty about smashing the face of his mate would be sociopathic even for Teemo. However, over the next several hours Veigar's worries were quelled. Not only did Teemo patch up his face, but he also made him tea; asked him about the book he was working with and payed his full attention to Veigar's lengthy answer; curled up with him under the covers to snuggle; and even humored him with an explanation when Veigar asked about his nightmare. Little victories indeed.

____

...

____

Worth.

____


End file.
